


Over-sized Sweaters

by wmblake



Series: Parkner Halloween Week 2019 [4]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (as in memories not as in trauma), Acquaintances to Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Pining, parkner halloween week 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 23:00:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21216458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wmblake/pseuds/wmblake
Summary: Harley's known Peter for almost a year now. He's learned a lot about him, but there's one thing he's always known about Peter: he looks too cute to be legal in his over-sized sweaters.





	Over-sized Sweaters

Harley leaned on the rake, surveying his work. The yellow, red, and browning leaves had once covered the lawn, but now sat, piled, to the side. He smiled. The autumn wind nipped at his face and hands, brisk, but didn’t dislodge the leaves.

“How’re you doing out here, Harls?”

He turned to see Peter walking over, cheeks already reddening from the cold, bundled up in a too-big sweater, the sleeves covering his hands. Harley rolled his eyes.

_“I’m hiring a new intern,” Tony said during a lull as they worked, quietly fiddling with wires instead of welding or hammering anything together. “Name’s Peter. Parker. About your age, super smart—more chemistry than physics, but still. I think you’ll like him.”_

_“Are you tryin’ to get me a friend as a Christmas present, old man?” Harley teased. Tony snorted._

_“Pepper made the same joke, like I’m adopting him or something so she can have another kid to dote on.” He rolled his eyes. “Pete seems like a good kid. Gets himself into more trouble than he should handle on his own, but that’s why I think he’ll make a good intern. It’ll be good for him to have people looking out for him, and you two can—I don’t know, talk about whatever you wouldn’t want to talk to me about.”_

_“When’s he start?” Harley held two wires in his pliers; they sparked as he brought the ends together. The engine whirred softly on the table._

_“He’s eager to start as soon as possible. Depending on how his aunt feels, I think bringing him in next week as a kind of introduction, give him the tour, et cetera, and then having off the week of Christmas is a good plan. We’ll all start back up after New Years.”_

_“You’re not really plannin’ on tryin’ to keep me out of the lab for over a week, are you?”_

_“No, but interns won’t be working official hours during that time.” Tony shook his head. “You’d take over my garage if I didn’t let you in the lab, you menace. I know well enough not to get between you and your projects.”_

_Harley grinned. “Good.” He tied the wires together and set about checking the energy output. “Lookin’ forward to meetin’ this Peter.”_

Peter offered a cup to him. “Hot cider for your hard work,” he grinned. Took a sip of his own.

“Thanks.” Harley set the rake down and took the cider. He held it, his fingers tingling, to try to warm up his hands. “I finished the rakin’. We can bag it up later.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

_Harley fidgeted in the lab. He tried mounting the engine into the latest version of the chassis, but couldn’t think through where he was wanting the wheels, what kind of weight the frame could hold, and—_

_The door to the lab opened. Tony strolled in. “—work in here, with Harley and I. Unless you’d rather have a lab closer to Dr. Banner, if you want to work with him on anything. He has more expertise in biology and chemistry, and so the materials in there are more suited to that kind of work. We can get you what you need, though. Here’s Harley.”_

_Harley turned. He smiled at Tony before his eyes fell on the intern—Peter—following behind him. Tousled brown hair, bright eyes—an over-sized sweater that covered his hands. He gawked at the lab, the equipment or the half-finished inventions Harley and Tony had left lying around, Harley couldn’t say, but—Peter twitched, halfway between nervous and excited, like he just wanted to get his hands on something and start building._

_Harley could understand that._

_“Your sleeves are a safety hazard,” he said, like an idiot. Peter flushed and looked down at the floor. Harley closed his eyes—_ You are the biggest gay disaster I know _—and shook his head. “But, yeah. Like he said. I’m Harley. Nice to meet you, hope you like it here, yada yada.” He turned back to his engine, if only to spare himself putting his foot any further in his mouth._

_“He’s like that sometimes,” Tony explained away. “He’ll warm up to you. Or you’ll just get used to it. I’m not really sure which way it goes, but, you know, it doesn’t matter that much. So after New Years, we can figure out stuff like where to put your desk and what kinds of materials you’ll need, but, for now, how about we go check in with Pep to see if there’s anything I’ve forgotten.” His voice drifted away as he led Peter out of the lab._

_Harley pinched the bridge of his nose._ “Stupid,” _he hissed under his breath._

Peter looked up at the sky, blue with thick, white clouds moving across it. “Sit and watch the sky with me for a bit?” he asked with a smile. Harley rolled his eyes.

“Sure thing, doll,” he said. They sat on the porch steps. Harley leaned against the railing, angled towards Peter—more watching his face than the clouds rolling by.

“I wish we could come to the cabin more often.” Peter sighed. “It’s so much more … peaceful. Like. Nothing goes wrong here. No … crime to fight, I don’t have to—worry about being Spiderman or Peter, don’t have to worry about protecting people I care about or saving other people …”

Harley nodded. “It’s nice to be able to relax sometimes.”

“Yeah …” Peter bit his lip. “But I really shouldn’t complain, huh? People need me. Need Spiderman.”

“Sure, it’s nice to know you’re there to protect people, but you deserve a break from all that stuff, too. You can’t save people as Spiderman if you never take the time to be Peter, too.” Harley smiled. “’Sides, you’re gonna save just as many people bein’ Peter as bein’ Spiderman—maybe more—workin’ on all you do in the lab.”

Peter glanced at Harley and gave him a small smile. “Thanks, Harls.”

_Harley burst into Pepper’s office a few hours later, once Friday said the coast was clear. “I can’t believe he didn’t tell me! How was I supposed to prepare if I wasn’t warned?” He shook his head. “‘Your sleeves are a safety hazard.’ I mean, how stupid could I be, really? Someone tell Mensa society, they’ve got to revoke my genius card now.”_

_Pepper looked up from her paperwork. “Harley, please, come in,” she said dryly. He collapsed on a chair across from her. “This is about the new intern, I presume?”_

_“Tony didn’t warn me that he was gonna be_ cute. _How was I supposed to prepare for that? ‘Stead, I put my foot in my mouth and practically insulted him.”_

_Pepper raised an eyebrow. “At least you have a week to ‘prepare’ now.”_

_“What if it’s too late? What if I’ve already made an awful first impression and he hates me for the rest of the time we work together?”_

_“I doubt that will happen.” Pepper chuckled and returned to her paperwork. “If Peter’s working with both you and Tony, he’ll have to get used to the occasional abrasive remark. And if he can’t, then he isn’t a good fit anyway.” She looked back at Harley. “For either the job or for you.”_

_Harley grumbled. “Yeah, okay, I guess you’re right … I still would like to be warned if we’re hirin’ any attractive interns in the future.”_

_Pepper laughed. “I’ll be sure to make a note.”_

Harley turned to the sky and watched the clouds mosey along. He sipped his cider. Spared a few glances every now and then at Peter. The wind hit their faces, bit through Harley’s jacket. He smiled.

_Throughout the winter and early spring, Peter always came in wearing an over-sized sweater—at least five different ones, not that Harley was counting—but always took it off before he sat at his work station. Harley bit his lip. When Peter pulled his sweaters off, his shirt underneath would lift—_

_And Harley would look away, back at whatever project was in his hands at the time. He sighed._

_The weather got warmer. Peter stopped wearing the sweaters to work every day._

_It was only marginally helpful._

_Harley got absorbed into designing a space probe late spring, which was much more helpful, burying himself in the numbers to find a way to get a probe further into Jupiter than possible before. The next few months passed in a blur as he worked, only leaving the lab when Tony or, more frequently, Pepper, dragged him out._

_Then he submitted his designs for a patent. The real world flooded back in, surrounding him all over again. It was mid-August. Peter’s aunt was going on a retreat with her coworkers and colleagues._

_Peter was staying in the Tower with Tony, Pepper, and Harley._

_Harley kept odd hours, sleeping and eating apart from the rest of them, most of the time—trying to find a new project to engross himself in. But, one night—early morning, whatever—he stumbled, bleary-eyed, out of the lab and up to his room—and ran into Peter._

_“Watch where you’re—” Harley stared at Peter. He rubbed his eyes. Stared some more. “Are you …”_

_“It’s not what it looks like!” Peter wore an over-sized sweater again, but a stretched-out one, hanging over his shoulder. He also wore … the bottoms of the Spiderman suit? Harley frowned. Spiderman swung by sometimes, pun intended, and Peter helped Tony update the suit sometimes, along with handling the web-shooters and the fluid. “… okay. So maybe it’s kind of exactly what it looks like, but—you can’t tell anyone. I mean. Okay. Pepper and Tony know, but, like. No one else can know.”_

_Peter stared at Harley with wide, frantic eyes. Okay. Harley shook his head. “You still wear sweaters in the summer?” he asked with a small grin. Peter sighed._

_“I’m gonna take that as you agreeing with me. I really hope that’s what that was.”_

_Harley rolled his eyes. “Obviously. But really. Isn’t it too warm for that?”_

_Peter flushed. “Well, I’m not sleeping half in my suit. I was gonna stick them in the wash before the blood could stain, though, so I—”_

_“Blood?” Harley demanded. Peter frowned._

_“Uh, yeah. But don’t worry! It’s mostly not mine. And what is mine is from wounds that have mostly healed, if not totally. There wasn’t much trouble tonight, just some petty stuff—no big deal. I, uh. Have superpowers. Like. Super-healing. Not just the. Climbing on walls thing.”_

_Harley nodded, slowly, staring at Peter._

_“Anyway, blood comes out easier if I get it in cold water before it dries, so I’m just gonna … go.” Peter darted off towards the laundry room._

Harley looked back at Peter. His cheeks red, his hair wind-swept—the brown partially-haloed by the sunlight, looking like spun gold. His eyes, bright and happy, looking upward. Harley sighed and closed his eyes. He leaned his head against the railing. Just breathed for a moment. The smell of cider, apples and cinnamon, the smell of leaves and dirt, warm and earthy, in contrast with the sharp, clean smell of the wind.

_Harley paid more attention to Peter after finding out. Left him ice packs, or at least cold water bottles, on his desk when he couldn’t cover up his bruises or his soreness. Checked the Spiderman suit over with Tony on days Peter wasn’t coming in, pointed out any weak spots, or made suggestions—like an inclusion of some stealth protocol, because if Peter could turn invisible, then he couldn’t be hit. He left some extra snacks on Peter’s desk, too, after finding out about his metabolism._

_Mostly, though, when Peter was actually around, Harley acted like nothing was different. They looked at each other more frequently, smiled, sometimes joked around—but Harley kept a meticulous distance between them._

_Then Peter swung into the lab._

_Bleeding._

_It was late, late enough that Tony had already gone to bed, Harley was just—wrapping some things up, he’d said, but—thank God he’d stayed late. “Peter,” he said, already grabbing the first aid kit. “What happened?”_

_Peter swayed on his feet a moment before crashing onto the floor. He shook his head. Large pieces of plating had been torn off the Iron Spider suit, revealing the undersuit—which had thick gashes cut through it, the fabric peeled back to reveal slices across Peter’s back, his sides, his ribs. Half his mask was gone, the other half in his hand, and a large cut on his forehead bled._

_Harley bit his tongue. “Friday, tell Tony what’s happened—”_

_“Already on it, little boss.”_

_Harley nodded and started pressing gauze to Peter’s injuries. He could tell they were already healing—which made him shudder to think what they looked like when they first happened, or even while Peter was on his way to the lab—but he needed to clean them, needed to see how bad they were—_

_Peter made a soft, garbled noise. Harley shook his head. “Shh,” he murmured. “It’s okay, you’re safe. Don’t try to talk. Just rest. I’ll take care of you. Tony’ll be here soon. Just rest, darlin’, okay? Just rest.”_

_Harley busied himself cleaning Peter’s wounds, wrapping them afterward. Tony came into the lab, half-frantic. “He’s gonna be fine, old man, stop panickin’, just—we’ll have to watch him for signs of concussion, I can’t tell if he’s out of it ‘cause he got hit in the head or ‘cause of blood loss. Is Bruce around?”_

_Tony shook his head. “I’ll call Dr. Palmer, see if she’s available, or if she knows anyone—”_

_Harley nodded. “You do that.” He turned back to Peter. “Stay with me, darlin’, okay? Rest and stay quiet, but stay with me.”_

_He thought he saw Peter smile, but—he couldn’t exactly be sure._

“Ready to go back inside?” Peter asked. 

Harley hummed. “Not just yet,” he said. Peter chuckled. 

“All right, if you really want to stay out in the cold.” He rolled his eyes, but he didn’t stand, either. 

“You’re stayin’ out here too?” 

“Might as well. Not much else to do around here than hang out with you.” 

“Huh. And I thought you were just talkin’ ‘bout how you wish you could be here more often.” 

Peter flushed. “I never said it was a bad thing.” 

_“Thank you.” Peter fidgeted. “For helping me last night.”_

_“Are you feelin’ better?” Harley asked._

_Peter smiled. “Much. Dr. Palmer was off-duty, so she took a look at me. No concussion, just blood loss, so all I needed was some rest.”_

_“Good. Glad to hear it.” Harley looked back at the prototype on his desk. Peter started to turn away. “Hey,” Harley said. “Uh. Do you … do you think you could take a look at this with me? I think I need a stronger adhesive, but I’m not the resident chemistry expert.” Harley grinned._

_So did Peter._

_They started to work together more, after that. Peter would invite Harley to help with the Spiderman suits, or the webshooters, or for a second pair of eyes on the chemical formula he was trying out for the next web-fluid. Harley would ask Peter to look over his theory before starting prototypes—which usually resulted in them talking more about the theory than the theoretical mark-ups he made for the prototype, which would spawn ideas for other prototypes to make later, but it worked._

_They started hanging out around the Tower, too, or around the city, when they wanted to get outside for a bit. Harley pushed aside the butterflies he’d get, the way his hands would shake, or how it would feel like the floor would drop out from beneath him._

_The temperature dropped around the end of September._

_Peter started wearing the sweaters again._

Harley looked over the lawn. Peter wore one of his over-sized sweaters now, the sleeves mostly covering his hands. He looked—adorable, and it made Harley’s chest warm. He closed his eyes. Sighed. “… if you knew there was somethin’ you wanted to do, but you weren’t sure if it would end well—and it might ruin what you’ve got so far—what would you do?” 

Peter frowned. “Uh …” He bit his lip and shrugged. “I guess … stress about it until the stress of thinking about it and _not_ doing it was worse than the stress of actually doing it, make a dumb multi-step plan and proceed to ruin at least half of the steps, before just … going for it.” He smiled. “Sometimes, you just gotta do it.” 

Harley nodded, throat tight. He set his cider to the side and turned to Peter. “Okay.” He took a deep breath. “Peter … can I kiss you?” 

Peter flushed. “I, uh.” He laughed nervously. “I thought you were talking about jumping into the leaf pile.” 

Harley hummed and leaned back, giving Peter a thin smile. “Right. Sorry.” 

“Wait, no, that wasn’t a—I—” Peter put his cider down, too. “Harley. Can I kiss you?” he asked with a smile. Harley looked at him. 

“You’re such an idiot,” he said, fond, and brought his hands to Peter’s cold cheeks. “Please do.” 


End file.
